Of Books and Spells
by skoolgirl101
Summary: Hermione waits and the unexpected happens.


**[A/N: This is my first one-shot in a really long time. I hope you like it. It features one of my drabbles from What Are the Chances. See if you can spot it! Enjoy!]**

**Of Books and Spells**

Hermione Granger stood at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, growing ever more frustrated the longer she waited. It was freezing and she stood their shivering despite of the fact that she was covered from head to toe in a red hat, her winter cloak, scarf, mittens, and snow boots with fur lining.

'_What the bloody hell is taking him so long?'_ she thought as she shifted from foot to foot, attempting to keep warm. He was supposed to be here…she looked at her watch…an hour ago. He had never been this late before.

She began to think of the time when she and Draco Malfoy became friends. At certain times, it had seemed impossible. They never got along for more then ten minutes before one of them said something to the other that caused another endless argument.

She, of course, loved Harry, Ron and the rest of the Weasleys with all her heart but when Draco had, to the surprise of everyone, joined the Order, Hermione felt that she could finally have a stimulating conversation that didn't have to do with the War. She would always remember their first civil conversation.

It was late at night, and she sat on a plush red armchair in front of the fireplace in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, reading Pride and Prejudice. She hadn't noticed when he had walked in so when he spoke, she jumped in surprise.

"Interesting choice, Granger. Never envisioned you to be the romantic type," he drawled as he sat in the armchair across from hers.

She kept her eyes on the book in front of her as she replied, "There's a lot you wouldn't know about me, Malfoy."

"Touché."

They sat there in a surprisingly comfortable silence until Hermione asked, "What do you want, Malfoy?" She hadn't asked him in an angry way but in a genuinely curious way.

"I just wanted to make normal conversation about something other than this godforsaken war. And it seemed as if you were the only person who would be able to do that."

"Well…what did you want to talk about?"

"Anything. It doesn't matter to me. Like that book you're reading, for instance. What's it about?"

"I thought you already knew."

"I know it's a romance but…"

"You don't know the story."

"Exactly."

"Well, it's about a young man and a young woman living in early 19th century England. The woman, Lizzie, is one of five sisters who have all been raised by their mother to find and marry wealthy men. When one such man arrives to town, their mother finds it to be the perfect opportunity for her daughters. Mr. Bingley shows interest in Jane, Lizzie's elder sister, but his proud friend, Mr. Darcy, seems a bit snobbish to these country folk and Lizzie becomes a bit agitated with him. A battle of the sexes starts and well…"

"Well what?" he asks.

She stood up from her chair, walked towards him, threw the book onto his lap and said, with a mischievous smile on her face, "You'll have to read it to find out."

"But you were reading it."

"Malfoy, I've read it so many times, I know it by heart. You can read it."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Good night, Malfoy."

He looked down at the book before saying, "Thanks. And good night, Granger."

She smiled before she walked out of the room and up to her bedroom. Malfoy picked up the book, turned to the first page and read, "_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."_

So that was how it went. Every night, they would sit in front of the fireplace and read. Hermione was always happy to bring another book for Draco to read while she brought her own. Whenever she finished a book, she would give it to Draco to read and when he finished, they would spend the night discussing it. They formed their very own book club of sorts.

They went through Austen, the Bronte sisters, Dostoevsky, Vonnegut, Salinger, Nabokov, Tolstoy, Joyce and many others and they would discuss them together. Sometimes they argued but that was understandable. They couldn't be expected to agree all the time. But, one night, while he was reading Dubliners and Hermione was reading Native Son, Draco said, "You know I've always been jealous of you."

She looked up, genuinely surprised at his outburst.

"Jealous? Of me?"

"Yeah, I mean, all of you. Potter, Weasley, and you. The Golden Trio," he laughed mirthlessly, "But especially you."

"Why?"

"Because you were all such great friends and…you would do anything for each other. I never had that. I grew up being taught that you had to use any means necessary to get what you wanted. Even if it meant leaving your friends behind," he replied as he looked up at her with gray eyes.

She met them with her brown ones and asked, ""And... Why me especially?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're Hermione Granger! Because of the fact that, even though you're Muggleborn, you're still smarter than me. The fact that you didn't take any crap from anybody, especially me. And the fact that you had people who cared about you."

"Draco, people _do_ care about you."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"I do."

He looked shocked at her answer.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do. You've become a good friend, Draco."

"I have?"

"Yes, you have."

He just smiled softly.

"Now this is the part where you say I've become a good friend to you, too," she teased.

He laughed. "Yes. I suppose you have."

The present Hermione smiled at the memory.

"But why is he so late?" she asked herself aloud.

Just then, she saw Pansy walking towards her. When she got closer, Pansy said, "Hermione, Draco's not coming."

Hermione noticed she was crying. She began to worry.

"Pansy, what's happened?" she asked nervously.

"His mother just died."

"Oh my…Pansy, I'm sorry. Are you well enough to get back to your flat alone? I have to see Draco."

"Yes, yes of course, Hermione. Go. He needs you."

"Thank you for telling me, Pansy."

"You're welcome. Now go."

Hermione quickly apparated to the grounds of Malfoy Manor and walked to the door and was allowed in easily. She knew where he would be: the library. As she entered, she said, "Really, Draco, if you wanted to keep people out of the room, you needed to put better wards up."

Then she noticed that he was unkempt and crying. His hair was a mess and his robes were in disarray.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" but he knew the answer and he just kept crying. She made her way towards him, put an arm around his shoulders and gently moved his hair from his eyes. He leaned against her.

"I never got to say sorry for everything I did."

"Draco, you're mother loved you very much."

"How do you know that?"

"Because she looked at you like she was proud to have you as her son," she cupped his face in her hands and said, "Draco, you were a wonderful son. Never doubt that."

He covered her hands with his own and whispered, "Thank you, Hermione. Thank you for being here."

_Almost a year later…_

Hermione was looking through the Malfoy's extensive book collection when she stumbled across a folded up piece of stationary in Roots by Alex Haley. On the flap, it said, in curlicue handwriting, 'Make sure my son receives this…Hermione.'

Hermione was shocked to see her own name in the writing she knew well.

"Draco!" she called.

"Yes, Hermione?" he answered from his desk.

"I found a letter here addressed to you," she said as she walked towards him and handed him the letter. He took it, no less surprised than she was. He unfolded it and began to read:

_My dearest son Draco,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. But do not be sad. Live your life, Draco. And always know that I will be watching over you. I will regret not telling you about my illness because it would have saved you so much grief when I left this world. But, Draco, I was ready to die. I lived my life. _

_I will regret not seeing you marry the woman of your dreams. Somehow I always knew you would choose a girl your father would have never approved of. I will also regret not seeing future grandchildren. You know I would have spoiled them rotten. _(Draco smiled here.) _But, son, love them like I love you because they will become some of the most precious gifts life will bring you. Also know that I am so proud of you as only a mother can be. I will always be with you. I love you._

_Your mother,_

_Narcissa Malfoy _

"What does it say?" Hermione asked.

Draco read it out loud for her and Hermione said, "It's like she knew that we would…"

"Get married? I suppose so."

"Draco, your mother was an amazing woman."

"That she was, Hermione," he replied, smiling softly, "That she was."


End file.
